


Be Careful With That One

by Reign_of_Glory



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, but could also be part of an au, but only if you read it that way, chandlamara if you squint, could also be read platonically, could be canon-compliant, dunno, read it how you like, somewhat angsty but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reign_of_Glory/pseuds/Reign_of_Glory
Summary: Heather Chandler has a few questions, and Heather McNamara is happy to talk with her.
Kudos: 15





	Be Careful With That One

“Heather?” 

Heather McNamara glanced up from where she sat on the floor of her best friend’s bedroom and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” she asked, setting down the Rubik’s Cube she’d been fiddling with. Heather had always enjoyed puzzles, and she was good at them, too. Currently, she’d solved all but the white and green sides of the Rubik’s Cube, and she would have been willing to leave it at that if she were any other teenager, but there was something about the sea of green being interrupted by specks of white ice that bothered her. 

“Do you hate me?” 

Heather narrowed her eyes at the other Heather, who was sitting on her bed. She had dropped the confident image she held at school, and she was slouching a bit as she gazed at Mac. When Heather didn’t respond, Chandler tried again. “I’m pretty sure that Heather hates me,” she said. “Do you?” 

Heather reached for the remote control and wrapped her pale fingers around it. She lifted it to the television, turned it off, and sighed. “I should,” she answered after a moment of hesitation. “I feel like I should.” She eyed Chandler with suspicion. Voicing such a thought would have been like signing her own death warrant had she been Heather Duke, but she wasn’t Heather Duke. It hurt, but in a different way. “You’ve changed a lot, Heather.” 

She braced herself for her friend’s response, but it didn’t come in the same fashion she had expected. Instead, it was a quiet, “I know,” that she hardly believed had come from Chandler. It was more of Duke’s thing to have a soft voice, and the fact that Chandler was whispering like she used to made something clench in Heather’s chest. Of course. She missed the girl she’d met in kindergarten, the girl who had always been there for her in a quiet way, always ready to catch her when she fell. 

It seemed to Heather that maybe that girl was still hidden inside her friend. “Do you regret it?” she asked, hugging her knees to her chest and pushing her toes into the carpet. “Changing, I mean. Do you regret changing?” After Heather worded the question, she became aware of how weirdly it had been phrased. Change was everywhere, she knew that. But still, she told herself, that didn’t mean people couldn’t regret change. Heather regretted her parents getting a divorce. They might not regret it, but she did. 

“Sort of.” 

“Yeah?” Mac hugged her knees tighter. She didn’t like the air of the room anymore. It felt tense, as if one of them was scared. Maybe it was her. She took another glance at Chandler, her dark eyes squinting the tiniest bit as she tried to decode her friend’s pose - similar to her own. Funny. ‘What don’t you like about it?” She paused. “And, for the record, I don’t hate you.” Heather ran a hand through her hair, the blonde swirls curling around her fingers. “I feel like it’s against my moral compass to not hate you, but I don’t.” 

Chandler hummed, leaning back against her pillow. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me,” she said, her tone lightening. “I’ve done a lot of shitty things… Pass me the vodka?” She extended an arm towards Heather, making the other girl sigh as she grasped the bottle to hand it to her friend. Chandler took it, and after untwisting the cap, she took a drink, closing her eyes as she swallowed. “And it’s not much to be proud of.” 

Mac couldn’t bring herself to smile. It would have appeared as more of a grimace, anyway. She felt that she should have been happy, hearing that Chandler was still human, or at least somewhat human, but she didn’t. “I know,” Heather responded, “But then why?” She began threading her fingers through the carpet, leaning on her hand as she did so. 

“It’s easier, I guess,” said the other blonde with a sigh. “I’ve never been the type to talk about what’s bothering me; it’s been easier to take it out on something.” She scooted forward on the bed, drawing nearer to Mac. “You’ve already seen my sketchbook, y’know how I would always draw in it?” Heather nodded, pushing herself closer to the bed. “You might show others how you feel through your words or actions. I guess I choose to draw instead.” Chandler slid off the bed, landing beside Heather and resting her head against the mattress. “Or when I can’t draw, I guess I take it out on others. It’s not anger issues. It’s just… When something has become a habit, it’s difficult to stop.” 

That, Heather understood. “Like Heather’s bulimia?” she asked, feeling her lips draw into a frown as she gazed at her friend. Chandler’s expression shifted from one of slight nonchalance to one of guilt, her grey eyes darkening slightly and the tips of her ears growing pink. “Yeah,” she responded, “like that.” 

The two girls remained silent for a few more moments. Heather leaned her head on Chandler’s shoulder, listening to the younger girl breathe. She had missed seeing this softer side of her. “Heather?” Chandler asked after Mac’s head had dropped a bit more. Her hair was probably tickling her friend’s neck, she realised, but if Chandler wasn’t complaining about it, she was sure it was fine. 

“Yeah?” 

Mac glanced up at Chandler, her gaze catching on the freckles that were in her view as she watched her friend’s nose scrunch up. The grey-eyed blonde tensed for a moment, closing her eyes as she drew in a long breath. “Thank you,” she said softly, her breath tickling Mac’s face. “For being here. And for not hating me.” Heather felt an arm wrap around her, pulling her close, and she closed her eyes as she buried her face in her friend’s shoulder. 

She didn’t know if Chandler could hear her, but she smiled into the other girl’s neck as she whispered, “Oh, Heather… I could never hate you.” 


End file.
